


Abandon

by dearcst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel centric, Crowley dies im sorry, Hurt!Cas, M/M, Season 11, The Darkness - Freeform, Unrequited Love, bitter cas!girl feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearcst/pseuds/dearcst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some way, it is Castiel's choice, but the choice was made for him before. It was Dean’s, it was Sam’s. With their actions, they chose to set Castiel free. Or to abandon the weapon they fashioned out of an obedient soldier. Whichever way you want to look at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abandon

Castiel has endured much. He has been beaten and stabbed and torn apart at a molecular level; he has endured the torture of Lucifer through the illusion of memory that was not his own-- he is well-accustomed to this type of pain. His eyes are blinded, he can’t see, and it’s been long since he’s relied entirely on sight, but he falls to his knees. His mind is crazed. 

He’s angel of the Lord, or what’s left of him, anyway. When matched with a three-century-old witch, Castiel is strong enough to resist, to laugh at the thought of being overpowered by something he predates by an unfathomable amount of time; he is unwillful.

He accepts the disease. Anything else would be ludicrous. He accepts anything. He accepts his fate, he accepts the wrongdoings against him. He accepted Dean’s attempt to kill him. He obviously hadn’t mattered enough to him. It’s ridiculous how much Castiel would do for a man who thinks so little of him.

Something happens. Castiel can’t remember. He doesn’t recall doing anything. Crowley is at his feet, and Castiel is unsure whether or not it is his own blood falling down his cheeks that he sees or if it is Crowley’s. An angel blade is lodged in the demon’s chest. It is Crowley’s.

Castiel rips the blade out and walks past the corpse. He’s irritable. He’s crazed. He runs.

Is this how he goes out? Alone and close to death, unable to die? The Winchesters would not search for him, he is sure. Castiel is akin to a rifle to them, now he’s breaking, he’s broken, and nobody cares that he’s broken.

Castiel is right. He wanders frantically through a stretching forest for three days with no word from the Winchesters. He accepted the poison, the curse, Rowena offered him, and now he faces the consequences. He is lost; he falls to his knees. 

Everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d lost for his cause, it is all meaningless.

He remembers Dean clearly, towering over him. He remembers the shape of his fist on his cheek. He remembers... 

He only wished Dean finished the job.

Suddenly something is ringing. Castiel throws himself into the trunk of a tree, and in a moment of disarray, he shakes his head as if the ringing is in there somewhere. 

It is his cellphone.

Castiel answers, “What?” gruff and bemused.

“What do you know about the Darkness?”

Castiel’s heart stops. Half of his being wants to clutch to the voice selfishly, to submit as he always had, to follow. The other half wants to run as far away as possible.

“What?” Castiel repeats. He wants to hear the voice again.

A heavy sigh falls through the phone’s speaker. Castiel has disappointed him. It makes his skin crawl.

“The Darkness. Y’know pre-Biblical shitstorm?”

Perhaps it is Castiel’s disoriented state or the blood between the cracks of his lips, but Castiel laughs, small and to himself. Hope was an illusion. Castiel was and is the epitome of wist.

“Why would I tell you about the Darkness?”

There’s a short pause, and when the pause goes on long enough, Castiel realizes Dean doesn’t have answer. Castiel doesn’t either. It’s obvious: this dependency, this infatuation with a man incapable of reciprocation has gone on long enough. The day a man who calls himself Winchester treats Castiel as anything other than a tool would be the day the suns of each galaxy burn out. There is no place for him, Castiel realizes. One day, perhaps, Castiel might have been something akin to a brother to the man he loves, but those days are over. 

Castiel has made many mistakes in his life, but he knows it is not a mistake when he hangs up the phone without another word. The phone starts ringing again, and Castiel takes it in his fist, his knuckles white around it, and he throws it with all the force his Grace allows into the trunk of a tree. It breaks.

In some way, it is his choice, but the choice was made for him before. It was Dean’s, it was Sam’s. With their actions, they chose to set Castiel free. Or to abandon the weapon they fashioned out of an obedient soldier. Whichever way you want to look at it.


End file.
